The Rider (dir. Chloé Zhao)

As if we needed further proof to the necessity of the female director’s voice, Chloe Zhao’s “The Rider” is the perfect antidote to any systematic gender appeasement. Within the lyrical beauty of her most recent feature, there’s an agonizing portrait of a young-man in the throws of a life-change, one that blends a delicate, and at times dazzling, portrait of 21st century Americana, with a harrowing character piece on a young rodeo's inner turmoil with his masculinity.

Utilizing similar themes seen in her debut feature, "Songs My Brother Taught Me", Zhao employs non-actors cast to portray semi-versions of themselves, in order to circumvent the usual narrative structure of the Hollywood western, resulting in a docu-drama aesthetic. Thankfully - helped marvelous by cinematographer Joshua James Richards - this is far form an un-cinematic formula, and of all the glorious facets to “The Rider”, the seemingly never-ending kaleidoscopes of the South Dakota landscapes are as breathtaking and heartbreaking than our central characters woes.

We first meet Brady Blackburn (playing a version of himself; well-known rodeo Brady Jandreau) removing a bloodied bandage from his head, which is soon seen to be protecting a large gash on the right side of his skull. Through the use of home-videos, we are soon aware his injury was the result of a horse kick, one that caused not only his visible gash but has also manifested itself into sporadic hand spasms. After checking himself out of hospital against doctors orders, Brady navigates the difficulties of returning back to cowboy life, with many people informing him a return to the ring would almost certainly kill him. Chief among his cynics are his bar-crawling father Wayne (Tim Jandreau), with whom he lives in a depilated trailer on an Indian reservation, along with his 15-year old sister Lily (Lily Jandreau), who struggles with learning difficulties.

But don’t think that writer/director Zhao implements a clawing sentimentality as her main form of audience participation- no, sir. Amongst the disparate themes in her excellent sophomore effort are the notions of identity, and more importantly masculinity. Through the use of occasional set-pieces showing our central character training horses, Zhao shows the difficult that Brady faces moving on from the only career he has ever known. Early scenes show our talented rodeo socializing with fellow cowboys over a beaming-fire and sipping beers, where they urge Brady to get back on the horse whilst reminding him what it means to be a man. But haunting him of what could happen if he ignores the people who love him are shown though regular visits to see his hospitalized friend Lane (Lane Scott), a once-promising rodeo struck down to a near-paralyzed state as a consequence of his profession. Their tender exchanges are handled with a astute precision from our director, that show the kindness of our young protagonist and never ponder too frequently on the harshness of circumstance.

And of all the tragedies that Brady has faced in his life: his mother’s death (it’s assumed they were much closer), his tumultuous home-life or his decaying rodeo career, we are constantly reminded of his location. Flickering between breathtaking sub-Terrence Malick vistas of the South Dakotan backdrop (essentially a run-down shell of what is used to be), to elegant snapshots of Brady riding his horses, Brady has nowhere to go; a punishing maxim that growing up in this environment ham-fists you into life that there is no escape from. Regular weed binges and the occasional fist-fight at the local pub fit neatly into the narrative as excuses for his depressive manor, though this is not your straightforward John Ford-esque western, so every so often there are yet more tender moments of Brady talking to his handicapped sister.

Using non-actors to portray themselves is not a new method, as only six months ago Clint Eastwood used a similar aesthetic in "The 15:17 To Paris", though thankfully in this case, our central cast are much better at playing themselves. Though Zhao could be accused of dwelling to frequently on the super-close up of our varying characters grieving, with "The Rider", she has cemented her place as one of the most beguiling auteurs in the business, with this terrific melange of conflicted masculinity and identity. Far from the easiest of watches, "The Rider" will stay with you long after your viewing, and reminds you of the true artistic abilities in the cinematic medium.

Rating 5/5